Category Archives: poet

Fiercely, we hold on

We are never more rooted
in this big universe than
when our eyes sting and
our heads hang heavy for loss.

When we, a procession of sun
glasses, watch, shifting feet,
as life disappears back into
those thick familiar arms.

Our backs, clothed in black,
savor warmth, unaware that
we are at once joyful and empty,
and crying for ourselves

mirrored in the lowering. How
we know deeply: absence
of something weighs more than
substance, and we fiercely hold on.

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Filed under dead, death, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, Uncategorized

Looking for the Smoke

in the dark spaces
i went looking for the smoke.
Thought i glimpsed it
around the dust gathering on the third stair,
followed it past open windows,
chased it through the kitchen, a hallway
filled with secret light,
i went searching high,
low, i found nothing.

Felt my way in the early dark to the deck to see a
skyline city far away, no avail. Went looking to the east
and there! I saw a ghost of myself
jumping free into dense air,
she seemed convinced of one thing.

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Filed under poem, poet, poetry, stream of consciousness, Uncategorized

Proclaimer and Vision

i exist differently. i am

the breath between

breaths, the gap. a golden hue

between day and night, your

pause between no and yes, i am

a living rift.

i see a girl at a crowded deck party.

she says “look, that girl is all alone” and

i am both

proclaimer and vision.

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Filed under conceptual, poet, poetry, stream of consciousness, writers

poets are dandelions

i want to be like so many
rows of seeds planted
over hard long years, who
now in the light of new sun
carefully test a path.

i want to be groomed to grow
tall, like a tomato plant up a rod.

but i am a poet, a seeker.
a dandelion unplanted, unplanned,
so ruinous to fields

but joyous to winds.

 

 

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Filed under philosophy, poem, poet, poets, writers, writing

First Morel by Amy Fleury #AmericanLifeinPoetry

I love the immediacy of this poem. The raw feel of it~ Enjoy!

American Life in Poetry: Column 474
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE

Let’s celebrate the first warm days of spring with a poem for mushroom hunters, this one by Amy Fleury, who lives in Louisiana.

First Morel
Up from wood rot,
wrinkling up from duff
and homely damps,
spore-born and cauled
like a meager seer,
it pushes aside earth
to make a small place
from decay. Bashful,
it brings honeycombed
news from below
of the coming plenty
and everything rising.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Copyright © 2013 by Amy Fleury from her most recent book of poems, Sympathetic Magic, Southern Illinois University Press, 2013. Poem reprinted by permission of Amy Fleury and the publisher. Introduction copyright © 2014 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.

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American Life in Poetry provides newspapers and online publications with a free weekly column featuring contemporary American poems. The sole mission of this project is to promote poetry: American Life in Poetry seeks to create a vigorous presence for poetry in our culture. There are no costs for reprinting the columns; we do require that you register your publication here and that the text of the column be reproduced without alteration.

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Filed under American Life in Poetry, poem, poet, poetry, spring, Uncategorized

"No Meds" …revisited

Little poems are soul food~
you will feast as long as you
don’t let em get ya, don’t let em ever get ya.
You’ll live the colors that create life.

Don’t you let em lock ya up
with their nonsensical ramblings of ordinary thought.

Tell em: no meds;
you were born as stardust
and don’t need nothing more than that.

(from 2010)

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Filed under poet, poetry, readpoetry, stream of consciousness